You Say It First
Page 60
She walked over and flipped several switches. The lights faded and the arch glowed. “It’s black light. Nick painted your dress with black light paint. As you pass through it, the dress will change colors. Once you’re on the main aisle, we’ll raise the lights back up so everyone can see the ceremony.”
Tears filled Nova’s eyes. “We can’t thank you enough.”
“You can and you have. We’ve all enjoyed getting things ready for you. The wedding is going to be wonderful and we’re all thrilled to be a part of your day.”
Pallas walked them through the rest of the venue and the plan for the following day. Nova, Joel and Tim headed back to the hotel. Pallas went through her to-do list and made sure she wasn’t forgetting anything.
Sometime during her meeting with the bride and her family, Nick had left, which allowed Pallas to breathe a little easier. Just knowing he was around made focusing difficult. With him out of sight, she could ignore the throbbing pain inside of her chest and get the work done. She would mourn later, she told herself. When there was time. Right now she had more important things to do.
Which sounded just so mature, but was difficult to actually do. She walked over to one of the papier-mâché flowers and touched the lifelike petal. From what she could tell, Nick had painted it at least three different shades of yellow. He’d spent so much time, she thought wistfully. Just because he’d wanted to help—and maybe a little for the challenge. Still, he hadn’t done it for glory or money, but because he was a good guy.
Not news, she told herself as she turned to look at the chairs set up for the ceremony and the panels depicting the alien world. When the ballroom was empty, it was just a big open space with high ceilings, but with a little planning and some imagination, it could be nearly anything. The great hall of a castle or an undersea cave or an alien world. She might not be in Nick’s league, but in her own way, she was an artist, too. One who took words from clients and used them to create an event worth remembering.
She thought about where she’d been only a few months ago—the new owner of a business she wasn’t sure what to do with. Funny how she’d been so caught up in wanting to work at the bank that she’d nearly walked away from the most wonderful gift anyone had ever offered. Only she hadn’t wanted to work in the bank—instead that had represented what she’d been looking for her entire life. Acceptance. She’d wanted her mother to simply love her for herself.
Knowing what she did now, she wasn’t sure that was ever going to happen. Maybe they were both too damaged. But what she did know was she was where she belonged. She was happy with her work. Blessed, and she would be grateful. No matter what.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
NICK STARED AT the recently delivered tree trunk in front of him. It was perfect—nearly four feet across and eight feet high—straight and strong. The scent of wood drifted to him. All he had to do was figure out what the piece was supposed to be.
He stood in the afternoon sun and waited. And waited. It had been three days and he still didn’t know what the hell he was going to do with it, just like with the last trunk he’d tried to work with. Instead of possibilities, there was only silence.
He’d picked up his chainsaw at least a dozen times, only to put it back down. There was no point in starting until he knew where he was going. And he didn’t.
He threw the tarp back over the wood and stalked into the studio. He swore silently and felt the anger inside of him. Funny how after all this time, he understood his father a bit more. When emotion overwhelmed, acting out like a four-year-old made a whole lot of sense. Or in his case, firing a few pieces of glass against a wall would ease a lot of tension. Only he’d promised himself that would never happen again. He would handle his frustrations in another way. Although he had no idea what that was.
He was restless, confused and angry. The latter made no sense—who was he supposed to be mad at? Himself? The selection committee? Pallas?
Not her, he admitted. She’d done nothing wrong. If anyone had the right to be pissed, she did. He’d dumped her with no warning, no reason other than he was a broken coward without the strength to...to...
He stood by his desk and wondered what he was supposed to have the strength to do. Stay? Be with her? Take a chance on them? No, not on them, on himself. Because she wasn’t the problem—he was. He was the one who had looked into the depths of the abyss and sworn he wouldn’t go there. He was the one who refused to take the chance. Not her. Never her. She was amazing and beautiful and funny and kind and sexy. She was perfect. He was the problem.
He deliberately turned his back on the racks with finished glass pieces before sitting at his desk. He pulled out a stack of drawing paper, then hesitated. Maybe he could figure out what the wood wanted to be another way. Maybe it would speak to him indirectly. He reached for a pencil and began to draw.
At first he wasn’t sure where he was going but after a few strokes, everything became more clear. Long stalks of swaying seaweed. They would be easy to carve and be a simple mold. He quickly drew the alien flowers he’d created for Nova’s wedding and rearranged them, placing the stalks of seaweed between groups of flowers. If he did them in blues and greens, he thought to himself, with touches of aqua and maybe a pale orange and yellow, it would be an under-the-sea garden for Taylor and Jake’s wedding.
Pallas had said the bride and groom were on a budget, so he couldn’t charge them for the work, but still, the papier-mâché would add an interesting element to the decorations.
He tossed the paper on the floor and reached for a clean sheet. What about sea horses and starfish? He drew several versions of each. He wondered what Violet could do to the basic creatures with her glitter and buttons. Maybe Silver could use slices of star fruit in the drinks. There were—
An image formed, one that was so clear he could almost touch it. He stood and walked back outside. After putting on protective goggles, a vest and gloves, he picked up the chainsaw. The vision was clear. A take on Neptune or Poseidon—a god filled with energy and determination, ruling the sea.
Later he would have to do research, to get the details right, but for now, there were rough cuts to be made. He worked intently, letting his hands and arms guide the saw. He was merely the bystander, the vessel who provided the means. The wood was in control—the wood and some mysterious part of his brain he didn’t understand but accepted and appreciated.
* * *
“I WAS HOPING you would be an extra,” Pallas said as she sat in Natalie’s office at the gallery. “There’s not much to do—just be there in costume. I know you already made the masks, but still...”
Natalie held up the long-sleeved T-shirt Pallas had brought with her. It was painted, front and back, with swirling designs that matched what Nick had done on Nova’s wedding dress. Violet had produced a half dozen of them to complement the servers’ simple black outfits.
“Sure.” Natalie grinned. “It will be fun. I like meeting new people. Count me in!”
“Yay. It’s going to be a lot of fun, and there will be food.”
“Where’s the food?” Mathias asked as he came into the room. “Hey, Pallas. Cool shirt.”
“It’s for a wedding,” Natalie told him. “I’m an extra.”
Pallas eyed the artist, then pulled another shirt out of her bag. “Want to go? You don’t have to do anything except roam around and provide atmosphere. We’re going to feed everyone who helps.”
Tears filled Nova’s eyes. “We can’t thank you enough.”
“You can and you have. We’ve all enjoyed getting things ready for you. The wedding is going to be wonderful and we’re all thrilled to be a part of your day.”
Pallas walked them through the rest of the venue and the plan for the following day. Nova, Joel and Tim headed back to the hotel. Pallas went through her to-do list and made sure she wasn’t forgetting anything.
Sometime during her meeting with the bride and her family, Nick had left, which allowed Pallas to breathe a little easier. Just knowing he was around made focusing difficult. With him out of sight, she could ignore the throbbing pain inside of her chest and get the work done. She would mourn later, she told herself. When there was time. Right now she had more important things to do.
Which sounded just so mature, but was difficult to actually do. She walked over to one of the papier-mâché flowers and touched the lifelike petal. From what she could tell, Nick had painted it at least three different shades of yellow. He’d spent so much time, she thought wistfully. Just because he’d wanted to help—and maybe a little for the challenge. Still, he hadn’t done it for glory or money, but because he was a good guy.
Not news, she told herself as she turned to look at the chairs set up for the ceremony and the panels depicting the alien world. When the ballroom was empty, it was just a big open space with high ceilings, but with a little planning and some imagination, it could be nearly anything. The great hall of a castle or an undersea cave or an alien world. She might not be in Nick’s league, but in her own way, she was an artist, too. One who took words from clients and used them to create an event worth remembering.
She thought about where she’d been only a few months ago—the new owner of a business she wasn’t sure what to do with. Funny how she’d been so caught up in wanting to work at the bank that she’d nearly walked away from the most wonderful gift anyone had ever offered. Only she hadn’t wanted to work in the bank—instead that had represented what she’d been looking for her entire life. Acceptance. She’d wanted her mother to simply love her for herself.
Knowing what she did now, she wasn’t sure that was ever going to happen. Maybe they were both too damaged. But what she did know was she was where she belonged. She was happy with her work. Blessed, and she would be grateful. No matter what.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
NICK STARED AT the recently delivered tree trunk in front of him. It was perfect—nearly four feet across and eight feet high—straight and strong. The scent of wood drifted to him. All he had to do was figure out what the piece was supposed to be.
He stood in the afternoon sun and waited. And waited. It had been three days and he still didn’t know what the hell he was going to do with it, just like with the last trunk he’d tried to work with. Instead of possibilities, there was only silence.
He’d picked up his chainsaw at least a dozen times, only to put it back down. There was no point in starting until he knew where he was going. And he didn’t.
He threw the tarp back over the wood and stalked into the studio. He swore silently and felt the anger inside of him. Funny how after all this time, he understood his father a bit more. When emotion overwhelmed, acting out like a four-year-old made a whole lot of sense. Or in his case, firing a few pieces of glass against a wall would ease a lot of tension. Only he’d promised himself that would never happen again. He would handle his frustrations in another way. Although he had no idea what that was.
He was restless, confused and angry. The latter made no sense—who was he supposed to be mad at? Himself? The selection committee? Pallas?
Not her, he admitted. She’d done nothing wrong. If anyone had the right to be pissed, she did. He’d dumped her with no warning, no reason other than he was a broken coward without the strength to...to...
He stood by his desk and wondered what he was supposed to have the strength to do. Stay? Be with her? Take a chance on them? No, not on them, on himself. Because she wasn’t the problem—he was. He was the one who had looked into the depths of the abyss and sworn he wouldn’t go there. He was the one who refused to take the chance. Not her. Never her. She was amazing and beautiful and funny and kind and sexy. She was perfect. He was the problem.
He deliberately turned his back on the racks with finished glass pieces before sitting at his desk. He pulled out a stack of drawing paper, then hesitated. Maybe he could figure out what the wood wanted to be another way. Maybe it would speak to him indirectly. He reached for a pencil and began to draw.
At first he wasn’t sure where he was going but after a few strokes, everything became more clear. Long stalks of swaying seaweed. They would be easy to carve and be a simple mold. He quickly drew the alien flowers he’d created for Nova’s wedding and rearranged them, placing the stalks of seaweed between groups of flowers. If he did them in blues and greens, he thought to himself, with touches of aqua and maybe a pale orange and yellow, it would be an under-the-sea garden for Taylor and Jake’s wedding.
Pallas had said the bride and groom were on a budget, so he couldn’t charge them for the work, but still, the papier-mâché would add an interesting element to the decorations.
He tossed the paper on the floor and reached for a clean sheet. What about sea horses and starfish? He drew several versions of each. He wondered what Violet could do to the basic creatures with her glitter and buttons. Maybe Silver could use slices of star fruit in the drinks. There were—
An image formed, one that was so clear he could almost touch it. He stood and walked back outside. After putting on protective goggles, a vest and gloves, he picked up the chainsaw. The vision was clear. A take on Neptune or Poseidon—a god filled with energy and determination, ruling the sea.
Later he would have to do research, to get the details right, but for now, there were rough cuts to be made. He worked intently, letting his hands and arms guide the saw. He was merely the bystander, the vessel who provided the means. The wood was in control—the wood and some mysterious part of his brain he didn’t understand but accepted and appreciated.
* * *
“I WAS HOPING you would be an extra,” Pallas said as she sat in Natalie’s office at the gallery. “There’s not much to do—just be there in costume. I know you already made the masks, but still...”
Natalie held up the long-sleeved T-shirt Pallas had brought with her. It was painted, front and back, with swirling designs that matched what Nick had done on Nova’s wedding dress. Violet had produced a half dozen of them to complement the servers’ simple black outfits.
“Sure.” Natalie grinned. “It will be fun. I like meeting new people. Count me in!”
“Yay. It’s going to be a lot of fun, and there will be food.”
“Where’s the food?” Mathias asked as he came into the room. “Hey, Pallas. Cool shirt.”
“It’s for a wedding,” Natalie told him. “I’m an extra.”
Pallas eyed the artist, then pulled another shirt out of her bag. “Want to go? You don’t have to do anything except roam around and provide atmosphere. We’re going to feed everyone who helps.”
